


Rosewater Alchemy

by AstraKiseki



Series: Rock Sugar [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Can Cook, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, Gen, I hate making titles, Ice Cream, M/M, short fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstraKiseki/pseuds/AstraKiseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil had done some research, after a recent date with his dear, brilliant scientist, Carlos and the matter of him being an outsider.  There were certain rituals and rites in between lovers that just didn't happen outside of Night Vale.  </p><p>So Cecil went conventional, in the coolest kind of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosewater Alchemy

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the Cecil and Carlos from [Toybox](http://archiveofourown.org/series/56164). (For one, those two are lactose intolerant.) The best rule of thumb with me is if it isn't in the same series, it's a different Cecil and Carlos. I just have too many headcanons and would like to have a variety of Carloses and Cecils. 
> 
> I was trying to just write joke smut unrelated to this, not... what came out. Anyway, enjoy this! Hopefully I'll get the next fiction done within the next week, then I'll get back to Toybox!

Carlos had once told Cecil that baking (and cooking) was science for hungry people.  Being into science as he was these days, Cecil made the solemn decision to try such science, full of test tubes and beakers and alchemical procedures.  Of course, the old stories also called for a quest to be done, some sort of journey, but in the smaller modern world, it was probably a better idea to keep it on a smaller scale.  Slaying a mayoral candidate was in bad taste, after all, handsome dragon and a seeming rival for your affections or not.  
  
So, Cecil made other plans instead.  
  
Being the inteprid reporter he was, Cecil had plaited his mist-white hair and opened up his trusty laptop, submitted the appropriate forms and performed the necessary sacrifices to pacify the computer.   With such offerings and washed olive hands, he could access certain databases without a fuss, to better pry into the foreign world of the internet beyond Night Vale.  After hours of seeking and the occasional purging of files, he had uncovered some recipes that were apparently customary for romantic partners to give.  Though, most were not exactly wise during a week where the Ralph's apparently had a rather large huddle behind it and the Santa Ana winds were howling the way they were.  
  
Thankfully, there were other recipes and other markets, and in fact, Ralph's had lacked certain vital ingredients.  In fact, he had to raid (politely asked by way of gesture and smile) Old Woman Josie's garden.  Thankfully, the divine protection from the angels was still strong enough to spare the roses the devouring worms that hungered for the bellies of unsuspecting victims.  He still boiled the flower petals twice, thick and pink, pinker than the blush on Carlos' face.  The water was heady with the perfume of roses, almost like the first flush of romance or the sort of memories Carlos once had recalled to Cecil.  The whites of the eggs had a scintillating glow to them, reflecting bits of the ethereal blue yolks about the room as he had carefully seperated the two with the matching polka-dotted shells.   It was always better when it wasn't some color that would terribly clash with the buttery yellow of the slowly heating milk.  
  
The sugar was ordinary.  Still, it was another acquisition from the boisterous angels (a thank you gift when Cecil had given Josie more salt to replace the sum they had taken), finer than sand or dust as he sang to the empty ovulations of protected quail hens, blue and white becoming the color of the sky, if someone had stirred the clouds into it, to make it foamy and light.  The milk was boiling like the sun as Cecil quickly thrashed and threatened the bowl's contents into submission.  It was returned into its cauldron and thicked with a mute mandrake root's flailing limbs to stir it all, before Cecil spirited it all away to a small patch of the void conveniently hidden within the freezer.    
  
As he whispered the hollow truths of the fly at the council of life and of Matevilye, stories that his mother once shared, he folded in the potent rosewater and a few lavender-gold stamens along with the dense, thick cream as he continued to work.  The mandrake root emitted a weak, indiginant cry as Cecil set them into the mixture for a final churning.  At least Cecil made certain to have hot blood tea ready for the poor tuber once they were extracted from the creamy concoction.  Hard-working aides naturally deserved compensation, especially after such difficult work.  
  
Finally, gloriously in the end stages of his work and trusting the Faceless Old Woman to break up the crystals and attempts by certain void-born forces to steal the ice cream, Cecil went to rest, content in the knowledge that his sweet labor would come to fruition.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. the stories Cecil mentions are real. 
> 
> Anyway. If you want to keep on what the heck I'm doing, or just want to look up what the hell my headcanons are, feel free to follow [my Tumblr.](http://astrakiseki.tumblr.com/) Mind you, it's mostly Night Vale, disability, tabletop roleplaying, smut, food, science (with an emphasis on microbiology), and headcanons, with the occasional Hannibal and paid commissions because bribing people to collaborate is awesome.


End file.
